


Do You Remember Elves?

by TiedyedTrickster



Series: Elves!verse [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: All the headcanon, Crack Taken Seriously, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Elves, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Germany was HRE, Headcanon, Italy being awesome, M/M, Memories, Prussia can be a good brother, and usually succeeds, fairy lore and mythology, gratuitous use of German, he just tries to hide it, remembering, seriously so much headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2184822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiedyedTrickster/pseuds/TiedyedTrickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Do You Believe in Elves? About a year ago, France and England found out a secret about Germany and Prussia, and that secret's about to cause some problems thanks to an unfortunate camping trip, and memories long-forgotten are about to resurface. But will they stay? Established FrUK, implied Gertalia, RusAm, and PruCan. Some angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaand I’m back! Finally, after (checks and winces) oof, four years (well, on ff.n anyway...), the sequel that a fair number of you requested! Thanks to everyone who has read Do You Believe in Elves and asked for more – you let me know that there was still interest in my little bit of crack-taken-seriously, and are the reason this is getting posted. Oh, and if you haven’t read Do You Believe in Elves, you might want to do this first, or it might be a touch confusing.

England was in a cross mood.

He’d told them that having a nations camping trip in his country was a bad idea, especially as they all _knew_ he had terrible weather for this sort of thing.

He’d told them that if they insisted on using his country as a location to at least let him pick the site.

He’d told them that this was a bad place to go camping, but since their hearts seemed set on it, there was nothing he could do, so at least let him choose the day.

He’d told them it was a _very bad idea_ to go camping by this particular hill, especially on midsummer’s eve, but, since America was behind it and no one could stop a determined America, he wouldn’t bother trying to dissuade them. And he had to come – both for damage control and because it was _his_ country and it would look bad if he didn’t. But please, he’d begged them, don’t wear anything green. If you listen to nothing else, don’t wear anything green. And if you meet anyone… unusual, be respectful.

America had worn his camouflage-print t-shirt and green safari vest. He claimed that this was what he _always_ wore when he went camping, but England was pretty sure he was doing it to be contrary. The other nations probably just forgot, or possibly were also being contrary, because it seemed _everyone_ was wearing green except for himself and Northern Italy. England was pretty sure it was more Germany’s influence than his own that had gotten to Italy, and Germany was actually entitled to wear the colour, but, really, it was rather impressive that _everyone_ was wearing it.

England had set up his tent out of the pathway and washed his hands of the lot of them, vowing to stay in his tent until midsummer.

Then a fuss had started a bit before sunset and, like an idiot, he’d gone out to investigate. It transpired that Germany had gone on a hike with a couple of the others and returned to discover that America had set up the campfire without consulting anyone. He’d put up a fuss, apparently, and wanted to move it. America didn’t see the point, as the campfire was already lit and crackling happily in the pit he’d dug. England saw the location of the fire and had just rushed over to lend his aid to Germany’s cause when the sun had set, the Hill had opened, and the Fair Folk had come riding out.

After a brief interlude - which included Spain trying to stop one of the riders to ask about their horses, America trying to pull the ‘false ears’ off one of the attendants and ask what movie they were doing, and Russia hitting one of them with his water-pipe for coming at America with a spear - they had all been hustled into the Hill by guards and locked into a plain-ish room lit by an unseen source, which England was pretty sure was a cell. They had spent most of the night there while the court went back to their midsummer ride. When they came back, England managed to talk the Lord and Lady of the Hill into releasing them. His argument had revolved mainly around the point that his companions were a bunch of morons who had refused to listen to what he had to say, along with profuse apologies and promises of remuneration, to be negotiated at a later date. But mostly that the rest of the nations were Sight-less morons.

Given that he’d used the part of the night not spent organizing his arguments for their release chewing out the rest of the nations for not listening to him in the first place, and that he’d trapped America in an array for two hours when he would not bloody _shut up_ and let England _think_ , the rest of the nations were rather inclined not to protest or interrupt.

And it had worked. Somehow or other, it had worked. The Fae had agreed to let them all go, and the nations had just been leaving the mound when the plan fell through in a way almost no one had considered.


	2. Memories and Magic

Japan had been watching the proceeds with mild interest, but only spoke up as they were leaving. “Germany-san, I do not see Italy-kun. Do you think he may perhaps have wandered off?”

Germany shook his head as they walked towards the portal out of the hill. “He didn’t get taken. I ensured he wasn’t wearing green and got him to go hide in England’s tent when the hill opened.”

Japan glanced at him in mild surprise, which, with Japan, translated to quite shocked. “Why did you do that, Germany-san?”

The taller nation shrugged. “Knowing him, he would have gotten loose, found his way into the kitchens, and eaten something. And then I’d- er, _we’d_ never have gotten him back.”

Japan nodded and politely pretended not to have noticed his friend’s slip-up. It was a well-known fact that Germany was at least mildly in love with Northern Italy; however most people were considerate enough not to draw attention to it.

Germany hadn’t said much during the night and he spoke quietly now, but apparently it was not quiet enough. Because someone heard him.

“Ludwig? Ludwig!” an ethereal elf flitted forward and caught Germany by the shoulder, grinning as he turned the nation around. “Ah! I almost didn’t recognize you with that glamour on! Well, that and the last time I saw you, you were barely up to my knees!”

Germany’s brows knitted as he looked down at the elf man. “Entschuldigung. You must be mistaking me for someone else – I’ve never seen you before.”

The elf man shook his head. “Na, na, I never forget a face. Here – let me look at you properly.” He made a flickering motion with one hand in front of the nation’s chest. It was accompanied by a flickering in the air around Germany as the nation’s carefully-maintained glamour was stripped from him like a cobweb. The elf smiled. “There! I knew it – you look so much like your grandsire!” the smile began to fade, however, as he peered up at Germany and saw the panic and confusion in the nation’s eyes. Then the smile snapped back into place, accompanied by a flash of comprehension. “Oh, that’s right! You died and forgot everything! Can’t be having with that now, can we?” with another flicker-gesture, he reached up and tapped Germany’s forehead. “You can thank me later!” then he scudded off back into the crowd of elves that had gathered to watch the nations’ departure.

Germany was going to call out after the elf. He was going to renew his glamour before too many nations noticed. But a sudden sharp pain behind his eyes distracted him at that moment as a door in his mind that he hadn’t even known was there, that had been shut for so long and had been so bloody when it closed that it had almost been scarred permanently shut, was forcibly torn open by probing elven magic, and the pain and sudden rush of memories carried Germany away into a black tide of oblivion.

 ***

Japan did his best to catch his friend as he fell, but, when you got right down to it, Germany was just too big for the slight nation to catch without squashing being imminent in Japan’s future.

Fortunately for both nations, Sweden had come on the trip and was standing quite nearby. He reached out and caught Germany under one arm, and from there got his arms wrapped around Germany’s chest, holding him upright. “J’p’n, g’ get R’ssia.” The tall Nordic grunted.

Russia, as it turned out, had already left the hill and was not allowed back in, but the countries around Japan and Sweden pitched in to half-carry Germany to the exit, where Russia lifted him out and carried him into the morning sunlight.

“Hey, what happened to him?” America was leaning over Germany where Russia had deposited him on the ground to the right of the opening. American had been one of the first ones out, due to Russia slinging him over one shoulder and walking off. He’d probably have still been in the hill if Russia hadn’t done so – once he’d been convinced that this was all real and not an elaborate prank he’d been rubber-necking like Percival the first time he rode into Camelot. Now he was examining Germany like an archaeologist going through Atlantis. “Did he get a spell put on him or something? I heard one of the elves did something to him before he got out! Ooo, did he eat the food?”

England, who had been one of the first out but had stood by the entrance, watching to make sure everyone else left, was also trying to get a look at Germany, but the nations were crowding around their fallen comrade – the short nation couldn’t get near and no one seemed willing to move. Growling in frustration, he walked over to a slightly bare patch in the bracken, where he used a stick to scratch out a quick array. Normally something like this took an elaborate array, complete with candles, protective charms, and sometimes even incense.

However, in this particular instance, he not only knew whom he was summoning specifically, he knew exactly where they were and what they were doing. Really, it was the easiest summoning he’d ever done. Germany appeared in front of him with only the slightest distortion in the air, and an instant later England had his wards in place a goodly distance around the two of them. He ignored the commotion behind him, concentrating on checking Germany’s vitals. He did smirk a bit when he heard America run into his wards, but he didn’t allow it to distract him and merely adjusted the wards’ parameters to not allow in any sound.

“ARTHUR KIRKLAND!!!”

The words came two inches from England’s ear at high volume. England responded by yelling in pain, clutching his ear, and going over sideways. He looked up to find Prussia standing over him, glamour off and in full regalia appropriate for the elven court. His arms were folded and he was glaring at England. “What the HELL happened to my brother?!”

“How the hell did you get past my bloody wards?” England gasped back at him, clutching his heart, “And what are you doing here?”

Prussia flapped a hand dismissively. “You only warded against Nations, and I’m also of Elven stock. It was easy to get past them.” he tossed the short cloak he was wearing over his shoulders and knelt down next to Germany in the heather. “As to why I’m here, Italy showed up on my doorstep about an hour ago, crying that Germany had been taken by the elves and so had everyone else and I needed to go negotiate for your release! Now what happened to my little bro- actually, never mind,” and Prussia shoved England outside the wards with one hand as he changed his mind, “I’ll find out for myself.”

For the second time in as many minutes, England found himself lying on his back in the heather; though this time the nations were paying attention as opposed to ignoring him. The first to actually lean over and speak at him was France, with an expression that was both concerned and sheepish.

“I am sorry, mon amour,” he murmured as he helped England sit up, “I tried to get the others to let you through, but I was not very close to the center myself.”

Before England could respond, Italy joined them, smudged with dirt and tears running down his cheeks. “Ve~ England! What happened to Germany?! Is he alright? Why isn’t he glamoured? Is he hurt!?”

“Why would he be glamoured in the first place?” France countered shrewdly.

Italy froze, then gave a shaky smile. “Ve~? What are you talking about, France? What’s glamer?”

England stepped forward and clapped a hand over France’s mouth before the other nation could ask something else. “We know, Italy, we found out a couple years ago. I don’t know what happened – I was trying to find out when Prussia threw me out of my wards.”

Italy gulped and nodded.

Brushing himself off, England walked back to the wards. “Prussia, let me back in there so I can help you, or so help me, I will bind you, come in, drop the wards, and let you explain while France, Italy, and I take care of your brother!”

For a moment there was no response. Then a shimmer passed through the wards, and England walked through without a word.

America came running up a few seconds after all this transpired, a worried expression on his face. “Hey, France, what’s up with Germany? And was that Prussia who just came through? What was up with his clothes? Is he an elf? He _looked_ like an elf. Is this new? I didn’t think he was with us! Did he eat the food too?”

It took France a moment to sort through this sudden barrage of interrogation. Italy looked mildly sand-blasted, though, so France rallied. “Why the sudden interest in Prussia, Amerique? I did not think the two of you were so close these days?”

America rolled his eyes. “And you call yourself the nation of love. _I’m_ not that close to the guy, but my _brother_ happens to be dating hi- ohmygod, Mattie!” all the blood left America’s face. “I didn’t see him come out of the hill! What if they kept him?! I’M COMING, MATTIE! DON’T EAT THE FOOD!” and he dashed off towards the hill again.

“Ve~ I’d better go get Russia.” Italy stood up and started to walk towards the tall nation.

France stood to go with him. “Getting reinforcements to rescue my favorite little ex-colony?”

Italy gave France a look that clearly questioned the other nation’s intelligence, which was especially hurtful coming from Italy. “Because he’s the only one here who could stop America before he gets the elves angry again. Canada didn’t come on the trip.”

“Are you sure of that?” France raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.” Italy nodded firmly. “Prussia was at his house, and Canada answered the door when I went to get him.”

While France paused to think up a suitable response, Italy rose to his feet and walked over to Russia, then continued on to the array that held England, Prussia, and the still unconscious form of Germany. Prussia and England were kneeling on either side of him, conferring over something by the looks of it.

Neither one was smiling.

Italy closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on the slight shimmer that marked the border of the wards. Tears gathered beneath his lashes, but he didn’t let them fall.

“Ve~ Ludwig…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! Thanks for the positive feedback with the first chapter, it’s really great to know that people are still enjoying this strange, strange AU I’ve made! ^U^
> 
> Notes:  
> America and the food thing - America has forgotten most of the faery lore England taught him as a kid, but one of the few lessons that stuck was that eating or drinking the food under the hill is bad. As may be guessed, he doesn’t remember exactly why it’s bad, but he knows with undying certainty that is Should Not Be Done. (The real reason for this is, if you eat their food, they can keep you forever.)  
> ‘Glamour’ vs ‘glamer’ – Italy’s purposefully mispronouncing the word the second time, in an effort to cover his slip-up. Glamour is a type of elven or faerie magic, usually involving illusions of some sort.  
> Human names vs Nation names – One of my personal headcanons is that, while all the nations know each others’ ‘human’ names, they tend to refer to each other by their nation (France, Cuba, etc) in general. The human name is used with other nations you’re close to, whether for personal reasons (America calling Canada ‘Mattie’ because they’re brothers), or close friendships/romances (Italy calling Germany ‘Ludwig’ (this one could really go either way, to be honest)).


	3. What happens now?

“I’m telling you, there’s nothing I can do!” England snapped in frustration, running a hand through his already-mussed hair.

Prussia growled. “There has to be! You’re always boasting about your abilities, and you learned from the best! Don’t tell me you were just faking it!”

“You watch your bloody tongue!” England snapped back, “If this was just a matter of lifting a spell or breaking a curse we’d be long done, but that thrice-blessed Fae didn’t do anything like that – he fixed something that was broken! I can’t just go breaking things in Germany’s mind without risking permanent damage!”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Prussia clenched his fists in the heather to keep himself from clenching them around England’s throat. The un-awesome Brit was not the enemy, he was just trying to help. Just because Prussia felt like lashing out in frustration at his helplessness didn’t make it the correct course of action. He snorted to himself. It figured the one time he decided to be mature and responsible about things West wouldn’t be there to see it.

 _West_ …

“What are we supposed to do?” he repeated, more softly this time.

“We wait.” England’s expression was solemn. “We hope that he can find his way out of his own mind again. Until then, I think it’s best if you take him home. Being in his own land might help.”

***

 

The nations trickled away in small groups once Prussia had vanished from the array, taking Germany with him. England had refused to say anything more on the subject, insisting it was the Deutsche brothers’ story to tell and exuding his “bloody British Empire” aura when pressed further.

Italy had been one of the first to leave. He’d inexpertly bundled up his and Germany’s camping supplies, then made his way back to the car he’d come in with Germany, a cheap rental he drove slowly to the airport after dropping the camping things at the motel they’d stayed at the night before. He brought a small satchel of necessities and left the rest. Their bags were clearly labelled with their names and addresses, and he didn’t feel like dealing with baggage in the airport. He slept fitfully on the flight, then got a cab from the airport to Germany’s house, miserable, dirty from crawling around on the ground to set up camp, exhausted from the stress of the past twenty-four hours, and running solely on the iron-clad determination to make sure Germany was all right.

So when Prussia answered the door with an irritated ‘Go away, Italy, I can’t take care of West _and_ you,’ suffice to say that Italy did not follow his usual pattern.

“ ** _VE~_!!!!!!!** ”

Prussia stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to absorb the fact that friggin’ _Northern Italy_ had just socked him in the jaw hard enough to knock him on his back. Clutching his face he began to sit up. “ _Owa_! What the _hell_ , Ita-”

A foot on his chest pushed him back to the floor and Italy glared down at him, an uncharacteristic fire in his eyes.

“You never told me.” He spoke with a quiet intensity. “For all those years, I thought he was _dead_. Even after I met Germany, you didn’t tell me. I had to put the pieces together on my own! And you _knew_ , all this time, that he was _alive_. And you knew how he felt- how _I_ felt. But you **_never told me_**. So don’t you _dare_ try to keep me away from him now!”

And with a final angry ‘ve~’, Italy strode down the hall to Germany’s room, leaving Prussia lying on the floor and wondering what it was about his awesome self that seemed to bring out the scary sides in seemingly harmless nations…

 

***

 

_A little girl knelt in front of a plate of food, and he peered around a corner, watching in nervous excitement for her reaction. Maybe she would like it, maybe so much that-_

_“Yuck…”_

_Hope crumbled, and his tenuous glamour went with it. She hated it, he couldn’t cook, she didn’t like him-_

_‘But he’s a boy, and he does like me,’ the thought popped up out of nowhere, ‘And I got better at cooking, I practised. He said they were like something good to eat on a sunny day…’_

_He shook his head. ‘That hasn’t happened yet.’_

_‘No, it hasn’t.’_

_A moment’s confusion, then he was sitting at a table and Bruder was talking._

_“-Focus, like this.” Prussia waved one hand over the other and a small flower appeared on his palm, glowing. A flick of the wrist, and the flower sailed into the air and disappeared in a pop of glittering dust. Prussia smiled at him. “Now you.”_

_He nodded and closed his eyes, reached for his power, focused… But all that appeared in his palm were a few grains of glittery dust. He puffed his cheeks and blew out in frustration. He’d practised and practised, and this was such a simple spell, but it never worked, even though he was doing **everything right** -_

_‘No I’m not, I need to focus like **this** , channel the power **here** instead of **there** …’_

_‘Oh ja, I remember now…’_

_He waved again. Again, only dust. He stared. ‘But I **did** do everything right this time! Why didn’t it work?’_

_‘Because it didn’t work when I actually did it, and this is just a memory.’_

_He nodded. ‘I can’t change the past. But I’ll do it right next time I try.’_

_‘Ja wohl, I will!’_

_“Ja wohl, mein Herr!”_

_He winced as the scene shifted, the echo of many black boots marching in perfect time, but he also kept his eyes open, even as he rubbed his left arm and backed away._

_‘I really messed up this time, didn’t I?’_

_He nodded. ‘Ja, I did.’_

_‘I want to look away.’_

_He shook his head. ‘I will not.’_

_‘It hurts…’_

_‘It does. But as long as I look, it will remain a memory. **Only** memory.’_

_‘Never again.’_

_‘Never.’_

_A blur, then a battlefield, muddy, painful, with Prussia leaning over him, crying. He lay on his back in the mud, felt himself fading…_

_‘Never this again, either.’_

_The scene began to grow dark, fade. Parts of him began to trickle away, but he remembered this now, knew what would happen if he allowed it to continue. He reached out, snared the vanishing thoughts, followed them and gathered them in his arms like laundry, folded them and set them with the memories that had held firm, until everything was back in its proper place. Then he sat back on his heels and looked through all of them, in careful order, one after another…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That little memory sequence was stupidly fun to write, the past and the present mixing and blurring – and everyone remembers that Germany’s food isn’t that great, but we do get that one scene where he brings Italy some really good quality wurst, which Italy responds to with enjoyment. I like that scene. I really didn’t want to include the reference to WWII, but… I dunno, it kinda felt like cheating not to. I did my best to keep it as tasteful as such an allusion can be, and only hope I succeeded.  
> In regards to Prussia bringing out the scary in ‘harmless’ nations, the list so far includes England (who really isn’t at all harmless, but comes across that way these days), N. Italy, and, if you’ve seen my fic Realizations, Canada.  
> Wow, no Fae lore in this chapter! Oh well, there will be next week – see you then!


	4. On Running a Country

Italy sat on the floor by the bed with his satchel, leaning against it and plucking at a slightly-too-large shirt cuff. After the third day Prussia had forced him to take a shower and change out of his filthy clothes. At first he had resisted, even when the other nation swore he’d keep watch on Germany and fetch him the instant the other nation stirred, even if he was still in the shower. What had finally convinced Italy to move, however, was when Prussia pointed out that Italy looked like a mess, and Germany would blame himself for it if he woke up and saw Italy like this.

So Italy washed and changed into the clothes Prussia provided.

Japan had been by earlier, to check on their mutual friend, as had Austria and Hungary. Prussia had set up a base of operations in the kitchen and was pretty much living there when not checking on his brother. The kitchen table was covered with stacks of paper and pens, Prussia’s laptop, Germany’s laptop, the house phone, Germany’s cell phone, and his own cell phone. From this area he was fielding all inquiries after Germany from the government and various nations, passing on instructions and orders from ‘Germany’ ( _Gott Sie Dank_ West made such detailed plans, notes, and to-do lists for himself!), keeping track of events within the country and around the globe, and occasionally banging his head on the wall and complaining that everything had been easier when Old Fritz was in charge while Gilbird cheeped nervously from the nest Prussia had made it out of a dishcloth on the counter.

Simply put, Prussia was temporarily running the country without letting the government know it was him. As far as the government knew, Germany was busy with important Nation business and Prussia was acting as a go-between because it was more efficient and it wasn’t like Prussia had anything better to do anyway. Because now was _not_ the time to go revealing something like this to the government, as he had told Spain when the cheerful nation came over to check on him and discovered Prussia typing on the computer with dark circles under his eyes and his hair looking like Gilbird had used it for a nest.

Spain had tilted his head to one side at Prussia’s curt response to Spain’s suggestion that Prussia just tell Germany’s boss what was up and get some help. “But Gil, things are nice and quiet right now. If now isn’t a good time to tell them, when is?”

“Oh, how about, say, _never_. Ja, never sounds awesome, let’s go with that, I’ll put it on the calendar.”

Spain was going to argue some more, but Prussia had jumped, pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, flipped it open, and brought it to his ear in one smooth motion. “Guten tag, Herr Beilschmit- oh, hey, Romano.” Deftly blocking Spain’s dive for the phone with his other arm, Prussia listened to the phone for a moment, then nodded. “Got it, I’ll tell him right now, he’s here with me. Tschus.”

Snapping the phone shut, he turned to Spain. “That was Romano,” he said unnecessarily, “He said he wanted you to get him some tomatoes while you’re out, and to grab a bottle of wine from France to go with dinner tonight.”

Spain hurried off to pick up the required groceries, thinking happily of how cute Lovino was when Spain got things right.

Prussia watched Spain go, thinking how fortunate it was that his friend was so supremely gullible in all matters related to Southern Italy. Then he turned back to the computer with a sigh.

There was work to do.

***

 

_The trees were dark and scary and big. Italia sniffed as he looked around, trying not to cry. Crying would attract the wolves, Gaul had told him so. But he wanted to cry. He was lost and hungry and scared and he wanted Grandpa Rome-_

_A dark shape flickered in the trees. Italia whimpered and backed up. He white tunic caught on something, and he tripped and fell. He started crying – the wolves had already found him, so it didn’t matter anymore…_

_“Entschuldigung?”_

_The sound of another person speaking was so unexpected that Italia stopped crying for a moment. Taking his hands away from his face, he looked to see a boy standing in front of him. He wore a tunic much like Italia’s, with the exception that it was dark grey instead of white. Out of his messy blonde hair poked the pointed tips of two small ears. Large blue eyes peered at him in concern. “Why are you crying? Are you lost?”_

_The reminder of his predicament was enough to set Italia off again._

_Concern was replaced with panic on the boy’s face and he hurried over to Italia’s side. “Na, na, don’t cry!” he tentatively patted Italia’s shoulder. “If you stop crying, I’ll show you a trick!”_

_Italia paused again and looked over at the boy. “A- a trick?” he hiccupped._

_The boy looked relieved. “Ja, meinem Bruder taught it to me. Watch!”_

_Cupping one of Italia’s hands in his own, the boy waved his other hand over their palms. Italia let out a surprised ‘ve~’ as a tiny pink flower appeared, floating a hair’s breadth above his palm, then popped in a tiny shimmer of dust. “Ve~ how did you do that?”_

_The boy looked surprised. “Magic, naturlich.” He glanced at the trees, then back at Italia. “It’s getting late. Is someone waiting for you to come home?”_

_Italia nodded. “Si, Grandpa Rome!” his face fell. “But I don’t know where home is from here.” He sniffled again._

_The other boy smiled at him. “I know where Rome’s house is- come with me, I’ll take you there.” He helped Italia to his feet and began to lead him out of the forest. “By the way, what’s your name?”_

_“Ve~ I’m Italia! What’s yours?”_

_“I’m Holy Roman Empire.”_

***

 

“-for the last time, we’re part elf, not fairy, we did not eat the food, and Legolas is a fictional character!” Prussia growled into the phone as he tried to make some supper for himself. “Now quit calling me, I’m busy!” he hung up and sighed. America was driving him slightly crazy. Opening the fridge, he cast a longing glance at some bottles of beer, but resisted the impulse and grabbed the milk instead, pausing for a moment to enjoy the cool air on his face.

Cool air.

Awesome idea.

Smirking to himself, Prussia opened his cell phone again and dialed a rarely-used number. “Hey, vodka-breath, I- …yes, yes, that was why I always drank all your milk after you’d made me clean your house… Part elf, not domovoi. Listen, I know we don’t get along, but America is driving me crazy! Could you, I don’t know, distract him or something? …I don’t care- seize his vital regions, invade Georgia again, whatever! …Yes, I know that it was a different Georgia last time. It was a joke. … Danke schon! Wiedersehen.”

Snapping the phone shut, Prussia leaned on the fridge for a moment, then went to check on Germany and Italy. The smaller nation had fallen asleep leaning against the bed. He was still wearing the clothes Prussia had lent him.

_‘Oh, right, I need to start the laundry- it’s beginning to pile up.’_

Stealing himself, Prussia turned his gaze to the figure on the bed. Germany lay on his back, motionless, eyes shut and face devoid of expression. Prussia wandered over and stood by him. He hated this. It was just like that time before- the stillness, the waiting, the not knowing who was going to wake up…

“Ach, West…” Prussia ran a hand through his own hair and sighed. “Please wake up soon.”

Sighing again, he went to get the laundry started and finish supper.

 

***

 

_He replaced the last memory and sat back with a sigh. He didn’t know how long he’d been in this strange place, sorting through his memories, fitting pieces of himself back together. He rubbed his forehead with the palm of one hand. He needed to go back, to reassure Prussia that he was fine, to talk to Feliciano, to make sure his country hadn’t suffered as a result of his absence…_

_He started to get up, but sat down again with a groan. He was so tired… He needed to rest first, to recuperate from the exhaustion of reintegrating his memories. A short rest, that was all he needed, just a short rest…_

 

***

“ ** _PRUSSIA_**!!!”

“GAH!” Prussia sprang upright, sending papers and Gilbird flying as he sat up. “I wasn’t asleep! I’m working! I’m working! The awesome me is completely on top of things!” He rushed to begin gathering the scattered papers, but was interrupted by Italy, who grabbed his arm and started pulling. Prussia tried to shake him off. “Dammit, Italy, can’t you see I’m busy trying to run meinem Bruder’s country? I don’t have time for-”

“Ve~ Prussia!” Italy interrupted, “Something’s changed! He moved! I think he’s-” he blinked at the space Prussia had occupied a moment before but was not occupying now. “Ve~?” He waited for a moment, then hurried back to Germany’s bedroom.

Prussia was standing by the bed, staring at its occupant, his habitual glamour gone, lost in his shock.

Germany was no longer lying flat on his back, the way he had been for the past month. He lay on his right side, curled into a slightly more natural position, and there had been a subtle shift in his breathing.

Italy quietly made his way over to the white-haired nation, noticing a slight glimmering on his cheeks as he did so. “Ve~? Prussia, why are you crying? Is something wrong?” Italy had thought Germany’s movement was a good thing – had he been wrong?

Prussia smiled wetly without turning to Italy. “His eyes are moving. See? It means he’s dreaming. He’s entered REM.”

Italy watched the two brothers, concern still clear on his face. “Ve~ what does that mean? What’s happening to Germany?”

“It happened like this last time,” Prussia continued as though Italy hadn’t spoken, “He turned on his side and his eyes started moving. I didn’t know what it meant back then, but now…” he turned to face Italy for the first time since the other nation had entered the room. “It means he’s coming back, Italy! He’s going to wake up soon! _West is coming back!_ ”

Italy felt tears of relief start leaking out of his own eyes as, sinking to his knees by the bed, Prussia began to laugh, tears still streaming down his own face. “Danke, Gott! Gott im Himmel, danke schon! West is coming back!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Entschuldigung: ‘excuse me,’ can be said to politely gain attention  
> Tschus: ‘bye!’ (should have an umlaut over the ‘u,’ don’t know how to do that)  
> Naturlich: ‘of course’ (still can’t do an umlaut…)  
> Domovoi – a type of house spirit in Slavic folklore, similar to a brownie in that it keeps the house clean and safe in exchange for offerings of food, especially milk  
> Danke schon: Thanks a lot, thank-you very much  
> Wiedersehen: ‘bye!’  
> Gott im Himmel, danke schon: Thank you God in Heaven. (yeah, don’t know many German exclamations of shock and stuff – did my best)  
> Na na: no no (this isn’t actually German, it’s ‘elven’)
> 
> Yeah, looked up how to properly spell all the German words I used this time – turns out I really can’t spell in German. :/  
> A bit of headcanon I’ve always had is that, unless given permission or they conquer it, it’s really difficult for one Nation to try and run another Nation’s country. It’s physically draining, even if you’re just doing something like paperwork, a sort of natural defence mechanism that prevents another Nation just sorta sneaking in and taking over. Prussia’s not trying to do that, but without Germany around to give him permission, the natural defence has sprung up, and the land itself is resisting Prussia’s influence. Poor Prussia – trying to do the right thing and having to suffer for it.  
> Oh, and normally it’s a bad idea to follow fae of any sort anywhere – you can get lost, stolen, or dead by doing this. Italia was just very, very lucky about which fae he chose to follow.  
> This was a fun chapter for various reasons, including Italia/HRE adorability and making Prussia suffer to do the right thing.  
> Last chapter next Friday!


	5. Awakening

_Ludwig dreamed._

_He stood on a green hilltop, looking out over his country. He wore the clothes he usually did for training, with the addition of a cloak like the one he had worn as a young nation. The sun was rising in the east, spilling light over his land, and Ludwig smiled as the wind ruffled his hair and tugged at his cloak and cap. He felt content, whole for the first time in centuries, pieces he hadn’t even known he was missing fitted firmly back in place. Everything was as it should be-_

_“Ve~ Ludwig!”_

_Looking up in surprise, Ludwig saw Italy’s panicked face peeking over the edge of a cloud. “Feliciano? What are you doing up there?”_

_“Ve~ Ludwig, I wanted to paint a picture of the sunrise, so I came up here to get a good view, but now I can’t get down! Help!”_

_Ludwig chuckled quietly to himself, then straightened, face turned up to the nation on the cloud. His cloak rippled and split into a pair of great, dark wings, lifting him up towards his friend. “Don’t worry, Feliciano, I’m coming…”_

***

 

Italy was kneeling by Germany’s bed, arms folded on the mattress, head resting on his arms. Prussia had had to leave awhile ago when his phone had begun to ring (again), but Italy had stayed. He couldn’t bring himself to leave, not when Germany could wake up at any moment, but sitting there watching him dream was driving Italy crazy. So he was compromising with himself, remaining close, but not watching. He’d fallen into a light doze when he heard a shift from the bed and felt a light hand on his head.

“Italia? Are you awake?”

The voice was soft, and rough from disuse, but it brought the smaller nation’s head snapping up, his eyes watering at the sudden brightness and at the hope that had bubbled up inside him, in spite of his efforts to quell it. The hand moved from his head to his cheek, where it brushed away a tear as tired blue eyes met his own, and Germany began to sit up.

“Na, don’t cry, Italy.” Germany gave him a small smile.

“Ve~ Germany?” Italy gulped, hope struggling and growing inside him. “Do you-? How much-?” he trailed off as the blonde nation took one of Italy’s hands and held it palm up, then passed his other hand over it. A small pink flower appeared, floating a hair’s breadth above their palms, then burst into a little shimmer of glitter.

Germany met Italy’s gaze then, his eyes warm. “All of it. I remember everything, Feliciano.”

The Italian nation went stock-still for a moment. Then, with a damp-sounding ‘ve~,’ he tackled Germany, holding on as though he were afraid the man would melt away if he let go, and sobbing in relief.

Germany brought his own arms up a little nervously – memories back or not, old habits die hard – and put them around Italy. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long…”

Italy held on for a few minutes longer. Then a thought popped into his head and squirmed over to the side of the bed and pulled up the satchel he had brought with him. Crawling over to Germany he smiled brightly. “Ve~ Ludwig, I brought you something!”

***

 

Prussia was trying to puzzle out some particularly confusing financial regulations that were up for review when he felt it, a slight shift in the air, a change that only a nation would have noticed. He sat back with a relieved smile, rubbing his hands over his blood-shot eyes, then plucking Gilbird from its dishcloth and placing it on his shoulder, where it went to nestle next to his neck with a grumpy ‘peep,’ annoyed that Prussia had removed it from its cozy nest.

Prussia just patted its head with a finger and grinned. “He’s back, Gilbird. He’s back at last.”

Prussia had been sitting back in his chair and letting relief course through him for several minutes when a startled laugh came from the bedroom. Grinning wider, Prussia pushed back his chair and stood up. “I think the awesome me has been patient long enough, Gilbird. Time to go see what those two are doing.”

Hands in his pockets, Prussia sauntered down the hallway to Germany’s room, doing his best to suppress his unease over who would be greeting him. Italy would have done something to alert him if West had come back… forgetful by now, right? Right?

To his relief, Italy was on the bed, peering worriedly at Germany, who was giving a bemused look to a small heap of candy bars in his lap.

“-were all I could get at the airport, and I didn’t want to stop somewhere to get something better.” Italy was saying as Prussia arrived.

Germany laughed again, more quietly this time. “It’s fine, Feliciano, really.”

Italy perked up. “Ve~ I’m glad! But I’ll still make some proper ones later!”

Leaning against the doorway, Prussia grinned. Gott Sie Danke, West appeared to remember who he was, and there didn’t seem to be any adverse side effects this time.

As if sensing his presence, Germany glanced up from Italy to look at the figure in the doorway, taking in the clothes that seemed to have seen several days of wear, the dark circles lining his eyes, and the air of exhaustion that hung about him like a fog.

Prussia ignored all these things in favor of being himself. “Oi, West! It’s about time you woke up! I think your boss is starting to think I’ve got you locked in the basement or something while I try to usurp your place!”

Germany smiled at him. “You took care of my country for me, bruder? Danke schon. I guess I can forgive you for that incident with the selkies, then.”

Prussia’s eyes bugged out of his head. “Incident with the- you _remember_ that?”

Germany grinned, a hint of fae mischief that Prussia hadn’t seen in centuries sparkling in it. “I remember everything.”

Prussia gaped for a moment, a dozen emotions playing across his face before he threw back his head and laughed. “Well it’s about time! And you’re just bloody lucky, to steal England’s term, to have an awesome brother like me to take care of your affairs while you were out remembering!” he put on a long-suffering expression. “It was _exhausting_.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be away-” Germany began to apologize, but Prussia flapped his hand dismissively.

“Nah, machts nicht, I’m messing with you,” Prussia grinned as he headed towards his own room for a well-deserved rest, “But you definitely get to explain the whole elf thing to the rest of the world, since you outted us.”

He made it halfway down the hall before the implications of his statement sank in.

“ ** _WAS_**?!?”

On second thought, maybe he would sleep over at Mattie’s tonight. It had been weeks since he’d last seen him, and pancakes sounded good at the moment. That in mind, he stepped onto one of the hidden ways and vanished, leaving Italy to explain to Germany what had been going on since midsummer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Machts nicht: It doesn’t matter  
> Was: what
> 
> And that’s it, folks, elves!verse has come to an end, at least in regards to what I’ll be writing of it. If someone else wants to take this world out for a spin, feel free – just drop me a line so I can come see what you’ve done, and keep in mind its curfew is eleven pm, not am.  
> Before you ask, no, Germany doesn’t actually have wings – that was just part of the dream. It could be seen as a metaphor of how his past is now supporting him and lifting him up instead of hindering him or holding him back… but, honestly, I just thought it would be fun. And it was a fun little sequence to write – I really ought to do more dream sequences…  
> I tend to latch on to odd little details, and one such detail for APH was that Italia said he’d be waiting for HRE ‘with lots of sweets.’ It’s something I never really saw used in other fanfics when I wrote this fic (and, gonna be honest, it’s been awhile since I started this, and I have kinda been perusing other fandoms since then), so I decided to do something with it myself. And discovered why it hadn’t been used much – that was tricky!  
> I hope you’ve enjoyed reading these little crack-spawned fics of mine as much as I enjoyed writing them. :)

**Author's Note:**

> On the green front: green was considered the colour of the faeries in some places in old times, and it was bad luck to wear it, as the faeries might be offended at you wearing their colour. France should have known better as well, what with his experiences in the last story. His reasons for wearing green were pure, however (for once) – he wore a green hair-ribbon that England got for him, in a little ‘see, you got me something and I’m using it/like it’ sort of way.
> 
> The Fair Folk: you never call them ‘faeries’ or ‘fairies’ or however you want to spell it – this can also offend them. Call them the Fair Folk, the Lords and Ladies, the Good Neighbors, things like this.
> 
> I have this fic all finished and typed up, and will be posting it about once a week until it’s all up. Also, I am a font of folklore - expect more.


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